may angels lead you in
by loved in shades of wrong
Summary: For Cory. And for Lea.


Author's Note: RIP Cory. We'll cherish all the things you have bestowed upon us during your short time on earth. You'll be missed dearly.

I read something on tumblr: "god just needed another angel and this time he wanted one that could sing." This quote and Jimmy Eat World's 'Hear You Me' is the inspiration for the title.

Some people cry, some yell, some just sit there and laugh about the good memories. Writing this helped me a little, and I decided to post this in hopes that it will help someone else too.

* * *

She didn't know what to expect when she woke up this morning. Everything was normal: she woke up at five thirty for her daily workout routine on the elliptical, she showered for exactly an hour (she used to need a lot more time to properly wash and rinse her hair but she's learned to time it so that she saves water for the benefit of both the world and her water bill), and she ate a healthy breakfast containing fruits and vegan oatmeal while she caught up on the latest celebrity gossip on her iPhone.

For six hours today, the world was balanced.

In just five seconds, her world came crashing down on her.

And it all started with a phone call from Mrs. Puckerman. (She'll later realise that Carole couldn't even stand, let alone speak through her sobs.)

"He's dead," she'd said. "Found... hours... room... alone."

It all swirls round and round in her mind as she stumbles back and drops the phone. It all becomes too much and she clenches her eyes shut as she falls in on herself, her head spinning.

* * *

She can't breathe. She can't even see through the blurriness of her tears, and she's choking on her lungs as she tries desperately not to throw up her breakfast.

Clutching her pillow to her chest as she curls into herself, Rachel weeps brokenly to the thought of never again seeing his face, his smile; hearing his laugh, the words 'I love you, Rachel'.

"No," she whispers brokenly.

* * *

She can even fathom the thought that for his last few moments on earth he was alone. She wishes she had been there with him. She doesn't even care if it hadn't been her, as long as he had _someone_ he loved with him as he slipped away to be with God.

Her mind races through to the last time they spoke, the last time the saw each other, touched, made love. Ten hours.

It was ten hours too long.

* * *

They're arranging a funeral for him.

It's too soon to say goodbye.

He didn't even get to say goodbye before he left.

It's not fair.

* * *

Throughout the ceremony, she just stares blankly at the coffin and grips Carole's hand tighter.

* * *

She remembers something he'd told her, when they were wrapped up on his bed back home, cocooned between the sheets and transported to a place where they were alone and nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them.

"My dream is to get married. I want to get married and have children - six, maybe ten - and we'll all live happily ever after."

He'd never said married to whom in particular, but it was implied. They'd been through a lot together, and they were forever.

* * *

"Hey," Noah mumbles back at Carole's, taking a seat beside her.

She takes the hand offered to her and she's about to lean her head against his shoulder when he abruptly stands up and tugs her out to the backyard.

They're quiet as he leads them up to the boys' treehouse, a childhood of stories from this tree, and they let their feet hang over the edge. "Figured you'd want to get outta there. Know I sure as hell did."

She nods and quietly whispers, "Thanks."

"Me and Finn, we fought and did some shitty things to each other," he mumurs. "But he's always been my boy. My brother. Sometimes it pisses me off that he did this to us; left us alone down here."

She falls back against her hands and tilts her head back, her eyes closed. When she opens them, the night sky is filled with stars, each sparkling in their own brightness in their own space. A memory floats into her mind and she grabs for it as fast as she can. It's back in high school, when he came to her, fumbling his words about a star. A star he named after himself before telling her that she is her own star.

Her heart still hurts and her cheeks are still wet, but she feels slightly better.

"He's our star," she murmurs back. "He's our angel."

* * *

She doesn't settle down with anyone else. The thought of waking up to another face, having kids with anyone else is just too painful. Even years after she has moved on with her life, she has never moved on from her soulmate.

But it felt like fate when she saw Christopher while doing charity work at a children's hospital. He had been admitted with lung cancer the day she'd visited. His parents couldn't take care of him and left him there. When she first laid eyes on him at only three and he'd grinned toothily at her with a cheerful, "Hi! I Chritopha." she knew. She paid whatever it took to save his life; for treatments, therapy, medicine - she could afford anything, and he deserved everything. It was like her angel had sent her there and she came right when Chris needed her. He reminds her so much of him - goofy, big hearted and driven - she knew the minute she saw him that she had to have him.

She still struggles with that some days, living without him, but every time she looks over and sees Christopher's goofy grin, she just breathes and takes it one step at a time.

* * *

Some days, Rachel wakes up and it still feels like it was just yesterday when her whole world had fell apart. And some days, days like today, she feels his presence all around her, and she smiles. Because although everything she knew had gone, his spirit had come back and guided her to pull herself back together, gently pushed her to learn to go on without him.

When it's raining outside and there's thunder, she knows that he's banging on his drums up there, or when she feels the familiar beat of drums at a concert Noah drags her to, and if she closes her eyes tight enough she can feel him pulsing through her body, and her heart races. When she closes her eyes, the warm sun shining down on her is his smile; the wind swirling around her are his fingers, brushing back (and messing up) her hair. Even odd moments of the day, through strangers, she sees him. Like when a man was walking down the street and had tripped over his own feet before looking left and right, a blush on his cheek, before continuing on like nothing happened.

She looks up from her newspaper when she hears laughter and squints lightly against the sun shining over the streets of New York City. A family is taking a stroll. The two boys, who look about six or seven, pushing and shoving each other as they race ahead of the four girls ranging from thirteen to four, giggling and squealing. Behind them are two couples, who look about her age of thirty, and they're tired, but there's no mistaking their beaming smiles and joyful skip in their steps. But most of all, she can see the love in their expressions permanently etched onto their faces, even as the boys start arguing and fists start flying and the baby girl starts screeching and bawling.

"Rach." She turns and sees Noah and Christopher looking at her expectantly.

"Let's go, ma."

"Okay." She stands up and tucks the paper under her arm as she reaches for Christopher's hand.

Finn's her whole world and Christopher is her life.


End file.
